I promise I did go grocery shopping last Friday after we only had ice water for breakfast. Milk in our house goes quick. I usually buy several gallons at a time, but Friday I only bought one for some reason (lack of sleep, 4.5 year old arguing with me that chocolate milk comes from brown cows, I shop in the ‘hood’ and try to get in and out without getting robbed, I’d gotten another one of those squeaky carts with three wheels - take your pick).

Let me remind you that I do 99% of the grocery shopping. My husband knows to put whatever he wants on the list and I’ll pick it up. It’s worked this way for over 6 years…a perfect system. He’d probably cite that as to the reason why he didn’t bother to travel to the grocery last week when we were out of milk, juice and Diet Coke. That and he’s lazy.

After work today I stopped to get a few things. I went ahead and picked up two gallons of milk to save a trip later in the week and two bags of salad. Two hours later my husband walks in the door with groceries - Surprise! He bought a gallon of milk and salad. His reaction - “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the grocery?” For 6 years he has understood the list thing. He proved that by not going to the grocery while I was busy with work last week. So why today?

We now we have 3 1/2 bags of lettuce and 4 gallons of milk in case a blizzard or something happens. My Grandma would be proud.

Who doesn’t have a junk drawer in their kitchen? Seriously, who? All while growing up we had a drawer that was totally set aside to collect the junk that you didn’t have a specific place for. It was one of those things that I was looking forward to when my husband and I got our own house. Although space is limited in our kitchen, I’ve sacrificed one small drawer for just that junk.

Now what is the point of such a drawer? It’s the place you can throw things when they don’t have a home. Or when they used to be part of a group and are now a single item. Things you may use one day, but don’t need today or tomorrow. The only rule of having a junk drawer is you never clean it. Ever. That would defeat the point of having one. When you’re in someone else’s house you can always look through their medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Who hasn’t done that? It can tell you a lot about them. But the nice thing about a junk drawer is that no one but you knows where it is.

My husband had some organizational bug tonight. While fixing dinner I found him taking everything out of our spice cabinet and combining things. Meanwhile I’m trying to get our house back into just a livable state from the past week. I worked 12-16 hour days last week because we had a guest speaker in town for several events. His diva-ness needed constant attention and I was a glorified taxi driver. On Friday morning we only had ice water to offer our son with breakfast, completely out of milk, juice and diet coke (three staples in our household). My husband had apparently forgotten where the grocery stores are located in our town. So I spent today getting things back in order on the surface - you know clean clothes, clean floors, clean toilets, etc…

I asked him to help me put away the clean dishes and you should have heard the “UGH?” sound he made. Two minutes later he’s asking me if I want to keep birthday candles and coffee filters. After dinner I thought he’d surely be done with “helping” for the day (hell, for the month). Then it happened.

The drawer I spent 6 years in this house filling was completely cleaned out and organized. He’d thrown away all the extra things that I may one day need. The single white shoestring, the nails, the old batteries, the broken night light, the rubber bands, the thumbtacks, the fingernail file, the screw driver, the matches, the wooden knobs from an old cabinet, the instruction book to our ceiling fan, the outdoor thermometer, the loose change, the plug-in air freshener, the rubber chicken, the ink pens, the 5 year old Lifesavers…….and the list goes on.

It’s not a junk drawer anymore. I’m not sure what to call it. Any suggestions?

Let me introduce you to my father, Bob. My parents divorced when I was in middle school and my relationship with him went downhill from there. I have some funny and some rather painful stories of our relationship. He didn’t have a stable family growing up and I understand how that can affect you as an adult. However, there comes a time when you must take responsibility for your actions and leave the past behind. Unfortunately, he let his addiction to drugs dictate his life. As of today we haven’t spoke since I last saw him in a holding cell in October 2005. I’ll be posting letters I’ve received from him over the years.

Warning - some are rather graphic in language. The first is listed below. More to follow.

May 16, 1994

Emily,

I don’t know what to say. I’m hurt and I feel betrayed. You have embarrassed me in front of the entire city by writing this article. You’re a hell of a writer, but you suck at the facts. The divorce wasn’t just hard on you. You can be so selfish. What about me? I’ve bent over backwards to try and be a part of you and your brother’s life. You walk all over me. I didn’t come to your confirmation because you wouldn’t invite my girlfriend to sit with your family in the church. That is so rude. I didn’t raise you to be that way. Your fucking mother tells you shit that isn’t true. I hope you grow up soon.

Dad

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**This was in response to an article I wrote my junior year of high school that was published as a feature piece in our local newspaper. See below.

If I told you that my parents were divorced, you’d probably give me a typical response - “Oh.” Oh, what? Oh, how sad? Oh that’s nice? Oh I see? How about, “Oh, I bet that’s hard”? That pretty much sums up what divorce is. Hard. It is a lot harder than what some people believe. It has been the hardest thing I have ever had to deal with.

I am 16 years old and have already been through a divorce - even though I have never been married. When my parents got a divorce, it was like I divorced one of them. Our family split, and the more I accepted the divorce, the more ashamed I felt. For the first couple of years, I tried to conceal it and make up an image that we were still a family. In time, I found out what caused the divorce. From that day on the word ”family” lost its meaning. The time a parent misses with a child can never be replaced. I know that. Only one of my parents was at my confirmation. The same one took pictures at my eighth-grade graduation ceremony. Who saw me when I was all dressed up for the prom? I didn’t have to reserve very many seats at my play in junior high. My basketball and softball games were too much of an inconvenience; maybe that’s why I saw myself as an inconvenience. At one point, I could have screamed every time I heard the word “cancel.”

As hard as the divorce might have been for me, I gained my best friend out of it. And I wouldn’t trade that parent for anything in the world. I always say to myself that I will never get a divorce. After going through one as a child, I couldn’t bear to watch my child suffer the same pain. Five years after the divorce, I am trying to be part of a new family and deal with the guilt of leaving half behind. Divorce is becoming more common. Sometimes things just don’t work. The only advice I can give parents is to remember that they are divorcing their spouse and not their children.

My husband and I enjoyed a get-a-way to relive our college days this week. We graduated almost 7 years ago and haven’t been back to Purdue since. It’s where we grew up, switched majors at least a dozen times as we “found” ourselves, called home to our parents to ask for more money, stayed up way too late, skipped a few classes, went on some spring break road trips, probably plagiarized a few papers, frequented a couple bars, sang some karaoke and fell in love. Campus had changed quite a bit. New buildings everywhere. Glad to see that those last student loan payments helped fund some projects. Hell my name should be on one of those buildings - at least a wing.

Driving through campus we caught ourselves getting angry at the students who felt they had the right away to walk across a street in traffic. We cussed the idiots who tried to park their small cars in 3 foot piles of snow in parking lots. Most of all we were jealous. Seven years ago our lives were simple. The only responsibility we had was making sure we kept our grades above failing to stay in school. That’s it. Today we’ve got a mortgage, a son, jobs…the list goes on. Simple is the last word I’d use to describe our lives now, but I think we are much more blessed.

Part of our trip included a basketball game between two state rivals. Our seats of course were not in the student section, instead we found ourselves on the opposite side of the court sitting with the “older” crowd. This was the section who was on a 5 second delay when it came to standing up to yell or cheer and when they sat down the pop you’d hear was from their knees.

We contemplated going to our favorite campus bar after the game, but my husband didn’t want to pay any cover charges or have to listen to a bunch of obnoxious college students. Instead we headed to the store to pick up some cough medicine and went back to the hotel. Upon entering the lobby I was overwhelmed by the fact that the same crowd we sat with at the game was also turning in for the night. There we were in bed 10 minutes later trying to stay awake to watch the news.

The following morning my world truly crumbled. I’ve always felt young. I work with high school students and on occasion I get mistaken for being a teenager. I even got carded at dinner the night before when I ordered a glass of sangria. I’m 29 years-old. That’s still young right? Nate was showering and I was getting ready when it all went down. Looking in the mirror I saw a hair that stood out from the others on my head. I haven’t had my hair highlighted for a long time. So how could this have happened?

I pulled back the shower curtain and asked Nate to examine this single strand.

What do you mean it’s a gray hair? I’m 29! No way can you get gray hair this young!

Oh hell to the no! (quoting Whitney Houston here)

So it comes down to this - I’m 29. I spent the previous day trying to remember where buildings were on a campus I attended just 7 years ago. I sat at a basketball game with people 3 times my age and stayed seated while they stood to cheer. I didn’t go to a bar after the game, instead I came back to the hotel and went to bed. The following morning I discovered my first gray hair.

I made an appointment to get my hair highlighted.

I believe Valentine’s Day is another made-up holiday like Grandparents Day, just so Hallmark can find a reason to sell cards all year long. If you have ever noticed there is some type of holiday each and every month.

My favorites are Sisters’ Day, Friendship Day and Sweetest Day. Giving a card for Mother’s Day seems like a cheap way out. Any woman who has pushed an 8 lb football out of a hole that size deserves more than a cheesy $3 card! Then the next month we have to turn around and celebrate the father’s who held their hands. It makes no sense.

We all know the money maker falls in the month of December. The only one who should be getting a card on Christmas is Jesus. It was his birthday after all. So why are we sending cards to everyone we know?

I admit that I have always bought into the card sending frenzy, however I don’t participate in things like Earth Day, because they are just ridiculous.

There are, however, 4 holidays that I do expect a card from my husband - 1) My birthday, 2) Mother’s Day (help our son), 3) Our Anniversary and 4) Valentine’s Day. We don’t usually exchange gifts, so a card isn’t asking too much.

I’m the thoughtful type. I’ll read hundreds of cards in the store and buy it weeks in advance. My husband is the exact opposite.

When we woke up this morning I asked Nate if he would like his card now. He said he’d rather wait until tonight (which is code for I haven’t bought you one yet). So this evening he brought home his card laughing. Let me show you the difference in our love:

My card:
“I’m glad you’re by my side. When I think of all we’ve been through, the fun times and the not-so-fun…when I think of all the dreams we’ve chased and have and haven’t caught…when I think of all the ways that we’ve been blessed…I know one thing makes all the difference in my life - that you’re here sharing it with me. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Nate’s card:
“I want to take this opportunity to thank my entire support group…which just happens to be you!”

Inside the card Nate wrote: “It’s not exactly a Valentine’s card, but that is what I get for waiting until the last minute to stop at a grocery store on my way home. It was either this or a ’sorry for your loss card’. I figured you’d rather still have me.”

He preceded to tell me that there was some was some 98 year old man in there buying roses and that he took his blood pressure first. Nate thinks he was making sure he could take his Viagra in case he got lucky tonight. I told Nate I hope he didn’t bother taking his blood pressure.